


Pre-ASOIAF Ficlet Series

by sansaclegane



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - A Song of Ice and Fire, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Gen, M/M, Multi, pre-asoiaf, this is a series of pre-asoiaf ficlets/drabbles!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-11-04 07:29:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10986270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansaclegane/pseuds/sansaclegane
Summary: A collection of Pre-ASOIAF ficlets and drabbles. Each chapter is a new story. Enjoy!





	1. Aftermath - Jaime/Elia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet written by [sansaclegane](http://archiveofourown.com/users/sansaclegane). Rated teen and up for violence.

Jaime pulled his bleeding sword free as the body of Aerys Targaryen fell to the floor of the throne room. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and swallowed hard. _Elia_ , was Jaime’s first thought—and then he was running.

Elia Martell had always been kind to Jaime. _“A good and gracious woman,”_ many called her. Though Jaime knew she was more than that, and didn’t deserve the fate she would surely receive if Jaime didn’t reach her in time. He ran from the throne room as fast as his legs would carry him, trying desperately to put dead King Aerys out of his mind. _I had no choice_ , Jaime told himself. _Elia will understand. I had no choice._

The gods alone knew if Elia would trust Jaime after he’d just murdered her good-father, but he had to try. And there was little love between Elia and Aerys anyway, Jaime knew. Instead he thought of Elia. Sweet, clever, fragile Elia; the only woman in King’s Landing beautiful enough to tear his thoughts away from Cersei, if only in passing. Though she was ten years his senior, Jaime hardly seemed to notice. Elia had never looked down on Jaime as others did, or treated him as if he were a child. She had always praised him after he’d done well in a tourney, and Jaime often saw her watching him sparring in the training yard with Princess Rhaenys clutching her leg.

With the drawbridge to Maegor’s Holdfast raised, Jaime headed towards the armory, where he would then need to scale the walls in order to reach the Princess and her children before someone else did. Jaime cringed at the realization, but Elia was worth the risk. Though when he arrived at Maegor’s base, Jaime saw two men already scaling its walls perhaps fifty feet above him; men he recognized as Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch.

“Fuck,” Jaime whispered under his breath. _I’ll never make it in time._ But he had already come this far, he couldn’t give up now. And he certainly couldn’t leave Elia and her children to mercy of Lorch and the Mountain. Jaime looked up at the challenge set before him, took in a deep breath, and began to climb. The going was quicker than he expected it to be, then again this wasn’t the first time Jaime had scaled a wall. He had grown up climbing the walls of Casterly Rock as a child, much to his mother’s dismay. Jaime thanked the gods for his natural swiftness, and for not making him into a huge boulder of a man like Gregor Clegane.

Jaime saw Gregor and Lorch scamper through Maegor’s first available window and quickened his pace as he gritted his teeth from the exertion, sweat beading on his forehead. He reached the same window not long after and hauled himself through, which was no easy task in full plate armor—his snow-white kingsguard armor, now stained with red. As his feet landed on the stone floor, Jaime found himself on a landing between two staircases, one going up and one going down. _Fuck,_ he thought. _Which way did they go?_ The royal apartments seemed the logical destination, so Jaime chose the staircase leading upwards, and ran towards the bedchamber that had been Prince Rhaegar’s.

But when he burst through the oaken doors, there was no one to be found. _Where is she?_ Jaime wondered, panicking.

“Elia!” Jaime shouted. “Elia, are you in here?”

“Ser Lion?” called a small voice. Jaime’s head turned towards the bed, where he saw a head of messy black hair peak out from underneath it, and two small dark violet eyes staring up at him.

Jaime let out a sigh. “Rhaenys,” he said gently. “Where’s your mama, little dragon?”

Rhaenys shook her head as she crawled towards him. Jaime lifted her up off the ground and into his arms. “I don’t know,” she whispered into his neck. “Mama said to hide and took baby brother away.” _The nursery_ , Jaime realized. _Fuck._

“Alright, little one, we’re going to see Mama now, and then you, her, baby Aegon and I are going on a journey together,” Jaime told Rhaenys, stroking her hair to soothe her. “You must be very quiet now, Princess, okay?”

“Okay, Ser Lion,” Rhaenys whispered, burying her head into Jaime’s shoulder. He turned and left the bedchamber with Princess Rhaenys in tow, and headed back down the staircase the way he had come.

Jaime had just reached the bottom of the second staircase when he heard the screams.

“No!” Jaime yelled, pulling his sword from its scabbard, still stained with Aerys’ blood. He burst through the nursery door just in time to see Gregor Clegane dash baby Aegon’s head against the stone wall. Jaime’s mouth fell open, stunned.

“Lannister,” Amory Lorch sneered. “I see you’ve brought us the other dragon-spawn. Be a good lad and hand it over.”

And so Jaime Lannister, with a princess in one hand and a sword in the other, moved to position himself between Elia Martell and her assailants. Jaime’s mouth curled into a smile, as if often did when he faced down an opponent, and he straightened his back.

“If you want them, come and claim them,” he said, not breaking his gaze from Amory’s.

Gregor laughed. “You fool,” he growled. “It was your father who bid us slay this lot.”

“Fuck my father,” Jaime said. “You’ve already butchered Rhaegar’s heir. Leave now, or I will show you no mercy.”

This time Amory laughed as he took a step towards Jaime. “You’re way out of your depth, boy,” he said, gripping the hilt of his sword, still in its sheath. Jaime slowly slide his blade towards Amory’s throat and placed it gently against his skin.

His smile widened. “I’ve already killed the king,” said Jaime coolly. “What do you think I would do to scum like you?”

Amory’s eyes widened as Gregor’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“You didn’t,” said Gregor, holding his ground.

“I did,” replied Jaime, without a hint of dishonesty in his voice. “Do you want your friend to live, Clegane?”

Gregor’s eyes narrowed, knowing he’d been had. He stepped forward and grabbed Amory by the shoulder. “Let’s go, Lorch,” he said. “The lion’s not worth it. His father would have us skinned if we harmed his _golden_ son.”

Jaime slid his blade away tentatively, allowing Gregor to jerk Amory away. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Lannister,” Amory called as the pair left the nursery. Jaime sheathed his sword and quickly barred the door. He only now allowed himself to notice the way Rhaenys’ nails were digging into his neck as she choked out muffled sobs. Elia was crazed. She had scampered across the room the moment Jaime shut the door, and was now clutching the body of baby Aegon to her chest, sobbing hysterically.

“Elia,” said Jaime softly, walking towards her. “Elia, we have to leave.”

“My baby… my sweet boy… no, no, no… not my baby,” Elia whimpered, rocking her dead son in her shaking arms. Jaime knelt down beside her and placed his free hand on her shoulder. Elia shrugged it off and began to sob even louder. “No!” she cried. “I won’t leave him!” Jaime felt tears stirring in his eyes, and he blinked them away. He had to remain strong. For her.

“We won’t, Elia. We won’t, I promise. We can bring his body, but we have to go _now,_ before the Mountain tells my father what I’ve done,” Jaime urged her. “Elia, look at your daughter, look at Rhaenys. We have to save her.”

Elia looked up then, and saw her daughter safe in Jaime’s arms. “Rhaenys,” she muttered. “My sweet girl.”

“Yes, Rhaenys,” Jaime echoed. “You still have Rhaenys.”

Jaime grabbed Elia’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned her face to meet his. He looked into her black eyes, red and raw and full of hot tears that would not stop falling, then rubbed her jaw with the side of his thumb.

“Do you trust me?” he asked her.

Elia blinked, then reached her hand up to touch his. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Then we have to go,” Jaime said. “ _Now._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Apologies if I got any detailed of Maegor's Holdfast/wall-scaling wrong, I did the best I could, haha.
> 
> \- Anna
> 
>  
> 
> [Read on Tumblr!](http://ashara.tumblr.com/post/161010022270/)


	2. Hero - Elia/Lyanna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet written by [sansaclegane.](http://archiveofourown.com/users/sansaclegane)

_I never wanted any of you to die for me._

Isn't that what heroes are supposed to say? Lyanna Stark wasn't a hero, and even after looking into the deepest corners of her heart, she'd come to the same conclusion; she had no qualms with letting Rhaegar Targaryen die. Robert, on the other hand... Robert meant precious little to Lyanna, truth be told, but he was Ned's dearest friend, and for that she couldn't forgive herself.

 _Oh Ned,_ thought Lyanna. _What must you think of me now?_

Seven Kingdoms had gone to war for Lyanna Stark's honor, and seven kingdoms held their breath in perfect unison when they learned the truth. The sole daughter of Rickard and Lyarra Stark had not, in fact, been kidnapped by the crown prince, but had willingly absconded with his wife. And so Prince Rhaegar had died for nothing, and Robert along with him.

_I never wanted any of you to die for me._

Lyanna's stomach began to churn, as she had expected it to. She’d never been at sea before, and the journey to Essos had been brutal thus far. Though Elia kept insisting her nausea was caused by a matter of the heart rather than the stomach. Lyanna shrugged it off. She'd made her choice, and she'd be damned if she let herself or anyone else make her feel guilty. Even Elia. Especially Elia.

Something tugged on Lyanna's trousers.

"Lady Wolf?" asked a quiet voice. Lyanna looked down to a very small, very concerned Rhaenys Targaryen. "How much longer are we on the boat? I don't like it."

Lyanna smiled and crouched down, at eye-level with the black-haired princess. "Neither do I, sweet one. I don't think Balerion does either." Lyanna looked at the small black kitten tucked under Rhaenys' other arm, struggling to get free.

"I'm afraid he'll jump off the boat if I put him down," Rhaenys insisted, clutching the squirming kitten even tighter.

"Not so tight now, or you'll squish him. Cats are afraid of water, you know," Lyanna assured Rhaenys. "I'm certain it would be safe to let Balerion down."

Rhaenys scrunched up her face, as if she was trying to decide whether or not she could trust Lyanna with the life of her only kitten. "Balerion’s not afraid," she exclaimed. "He's not afraid of anything."

Lyanna chuckled. _She has so much fire,_ she thought. _Like her mother._

"Would you like to jump into the sea, princess?" asked Lyanna, raising her brow. Rhaenys peered over the edge of the ship and shook her head in vigorous protest. "Then I assure you that Balerion doesn't either."

That seemed to be a good enough explanation for Rhaenys. She immediately set an exasperated Balerion down on the deck. He scampered down to the cabin below where Elia was feeding baby Aegon.

"See?" said Lyanna. "He's gone down to be with your mama and the baby."

Rhaenys smiled and took Lyanna's hand, her black hair swirling around her Dornish face in the summer wind.

_I never wanted any of you to die for me._

The thought kept hitting Lyanna over and over, like one of the many waves that crashed against the hull of the ship. It had all been worth it, she’d told herself. It had all been worth it because Elia was safe, and her children were with her. They were all that mattered. Not Lyanna’s honor, not her pride. But hard as she tried, she could not seem to shake her shame.

Lyanna’s train of thought was broken when she heard the sound of the cabin door open. She turned to see the Princess Elia, looking half a woman and half a goddess with the setting sun illuminating her caramel skin.

Little Rhaenys dropped Lyanna’s hand and ran to her mother, who scooped the little girl up in her arms. Lyanna rushed to Elia’s side and grabbed her waist to steady her, afraid the force of Rhaenys’ jump might cause her to fall.

“I’m alright, love,” Elia assured her. “Rhaenys knows to be gentle with me, don’t you, sweet girl?”

Rhaenys nodded her head as she buried it into Elia’s neck, getting lost in her mother’s thick black hair. Lyanna kept an arm around Elia’s waist, just in case. Elia winced slightly as Lyanna placed a light kiss on her shoulder. _The bruises haven’t healed yet,_ Lyanna thought, frowning. Her free hand tightened into a fist, remembering the first time she saw them. Brandon has insisted the princess was simply delicate and fragile, as everyone said she was. But Lyanna was sure that no matter how easily Elia may have bruised, Rhaegar hit more than hard enough.

Looking at her now, this woman she had come to love, that night seemed as if it were a thousand years ago. And in truth, it was. They had all come so far, this little family of hers. A wolf from the north, a princess from the south, and two baby dragons. They were all Lyanna had left.

_I never wanted any of you to die for me._

_They didn’t die for me,_ Lyanna realized. _But for them. For their freedom and their safety._

“I’m sleepy, Mama,” Rhaenys mumbled, rubbing her eyes. Elia set her down on the deck and kissed the top of her head.

“Run down to the cabin then, little one, and curl up beside your brother. Mama will be down soon to tuck you in.”

“And Lya to tell me a story?” Rhaenys asked sleepily.

“And Lya to tell you a story,” Elia echoed. “Off with you now.”

Little Rhaenys rushed down to the cabin below them, leaving Lyanna and Elia alone on the deck of the ship. As Lyanna wrapped her arms around Elia, she felt as though they were the only two souls on the whole of the Narrow Sea. She wished the moment could last a lifetime.

Elia turned to face her. “She loves you, you know. Rhaenys.”

Lyanna smiled. “As I love her… and you.” She reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind Elia’s ear, letting her fingers linger on her neck. Elia laid her hand against Lyanna’s and kissed it softly as she gazed into her winter-grey eyes; Stark eyes. Lyanna gazed back, unable to look away from those eyes; as black as night, but brighter than the stars. Even if a battle were raging all around them, Elia’s eyes would bring her home. She would never look away again.

Lyanna Stark wasn’t a hero, but for Elia, she could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I know there are a few unanswered questions about the backstory here, but I decided not to dive too far into it because this ficlet is just a cute oneshot about Elia and Lyanna, and I thought flooding it with backstory would take away from that. 
> 
> \- Anna
> 
>  
> 
> [Read on Tumblr!](http://ashara.tumblr.com/post/163272780735/)


	3. Grief - Ashara/Howland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet written by [sansaclegane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sansaclegane/).

Ashara lowered her eyes and rubbed her hands protectively over her growing belly. “He’s been kicking again,” she told Howland, who was sitting on the floor of their chambers playing with baby Meera.

“You don’t know it’s a boy,” Howland remarked, making his wooden knight gallop towards his daughter.

“I know,” Ashara maintained. “Howland… I’m frightened.”

Howland stood up from the floor and walked over to his anxious wife, then placed a reassuring kiss upon her cheek. 

“I know you are, my love,” said Howland. “But there is nothing to be frightened of. Not anymore. I know how this must pain you. Nothing would give me more joy than to be able to take that pain away; to let you live as Ashara and not Jyana. But you know how impossible that would be. How dangerous.”

Ashara gave her husband a half-hearted nod, having resigned herself to her fate many years ago. Ashara Dayne wore her grief like a second skin. It had become her solace, her cornerstone, her mother’s milk. It was etched into her very bones; it would never leave her.  _But I left them. My mother, my brothers, my baby sister,_  Ashara thought.  _They all think me dead, and in truth, I am. Ashara Dayne had perished alongside Arthur; half of her soul that would never grow back._  She struggled to blink back the tears, remembering.

“I am Jyana now,” Ashara sighed. “Your wife, your love, the mother of your children. I am grateful for all I have, but—”

“But there is a hole in your heart where your brother should be, and there is naught else in this world which can fill it.”

Ashara nodded as a tear escaped from her violet eyes. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, ashamed that all the love she had never seemed to be enough.

“You never need apologize for that to me, my lady. Loss becomes us, it seems. But this family— _our_  family—is so much more than all the many things we have left behind,” Howland placed his hand on Ashara’s belly and smiled. “And we have much to look forward to.”

Ashara returned his smile and rested her hand atop his. “You love me with a richness I do not deserve.” Howland only smiled, as he often did. Her husband, though strong and silent, had a smile so full of love and warmth it comforted Ashara on even her darkest of days.

Next to the fire, Meera was laughing cheerfully while playing with her wooden knight. Ashara looked at her daughter and felt her heart give a small flutter.  _Even in my grief, I have her. My Meera,_ Ashara thought. _Has all this pain truly been worth it, if it gave me her?_

“She looks like you, you know,” Howland observed. “She has your dark hair.”

“And your green eyes,” Ashara added. “She looks like  _us._ ”

“How did we make something so perfect?”

“Gods be good, if only I knew,” Ashara laughed. “And soon we’ll have another.”

Howland wrapped his arms around his wife and gazed down at her swollen belly. “If you are correct and it  _is_  a boy, what do you think we should call him?”

Ashara turned to her husband and smiled. “Jojen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Ashara/Howland! Jyana secretly being Ashara is one of my favorite theories... ;) Enjoy!
> 
> \- Anna
> 
> [Read on Tumblr!](http://ashara.tumblr.com/post/164010527960/ashara-lowered-her-eyes-and-rubbed-her-hands)


End file.
